


Worse Places

by fabrega



Series: SALTapalooza [10]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Blackwatch Era, Dress Uniforms, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: "I've got a whole bed to myself," Gabe says. "There's no reason for anybody to be sleeping on the floor.""Nice!" Shiga says, grinning as Valdez and Prithi exchange a look. "Jesse, you want to sleep with Reyes?"





	Worse Places

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/gifts).



> Week Nine of SALTapalooza! Today's prompt was "sharing a bed", the trope I just can't get enough of. This is a fourteen part series that will update every Saturday for the next five weeks. Feel free to come yell at [me](https://twitter.com/carithlee) or [smarshtastic](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic) about this on twitter!

In retrospect, Gabe's not sure why he expected any of this to go smoothly. Every step of this process has been like pulling teeth, and it only makes sense that this last bit would be a clusterfuck too.

.

The first time he puts his team in for recognition from the UN, he is summarily shut down, Morrison reminding him that Blackwatch worked under the radar and that they both know that public recognition won't ever really be on the table. Gabe _didn't_ know that, actually. He knows that they do a lot of things they can't talk about, let alone bring somebody up on stage and pin a medal on them for, but to his mind that's more of an argument for celebrating the things they _can_ talk about than one against ever celebrating. 

He's shut down the second time, too, and the third, and the fourth. 

The fifth time, Gabe doesn't hear anything at all, which he assumes is also a hard no until he comes into his office one morning a couple weeks later and finds a stack of small boxes on his desk, a medal in each one. _No ceremony_ , the sticky note on the top one says in Morrison's blocky handwriting. 

Gabe slides a box to each member of his team across the table at breakfast the next day, while the canteen holovid screens show Morrison's gruff face as he pins medals on a set of uniformed Overwatch agents at the UN headquarters. The applause from the holovids rings loud across the canteen, and even though Gabe's agents are still smiling at him and saying how honored they are to be recognized, what had felt like a victory yesterday suddenly feels more like a defeat.

The sixth time, Morrison stomps into a Blackwatch briefing with a man in a suit in tow. While Gabe scrambles to hide the classified briefing materials from this surprise newcomer, Morrison introduces him as _Assistant Sub-Undersecretary Ducca_ and says that he's here to present them with their medals. 

Nobody was expecting it and nobody is dressed for it: Riemann's in her workout clothes, McCree hasn't shaved since before he left on his last assignment, there's literally nowhere on Shimada for Ducca to actually pin his medal to, and Shiga's wearing the joke shirt he'd gotten everyone last Christmas, the one that says BLACKWATCH DOES IT UNDERCOVER in big red letters. Still, Ducca does his best, managing to keep a straight face and give them a short but sincere-sounding speech about how everyone who knows what they do is very thankful for them doing it. 

The look Morrison gives Gabe on the way out of the briefing room suggests that Gabe ought to be thankful for this. Gabe scowls back and wonders why it still doesn't feel like a win.

The seventh time, they actually get invited to a ceremony, something fancy and official at Overwatch HQ. Gabe and his agents show up to the Swiss base in good spirits and their dress uniforms only to find out that _their_ portion of the ceremony will be happening backstage, after everyone else is dismissed. They still get to have medals pinned on them and still get to shake Under-Secretary Adawe's hand, but the public recognition, for a mission where they'd--at least incidentally-- _saved an orphanage_ , is apparently still a bridge too far.

Gabe finds Morrison afterwards, shiny medals newly-pinned to both their chests. Morrison doesn't say anything, but then again, neither of them really has to.

.

All of those previous attempts had led to this: Gabe and his agents _assured_ that nobody's ashamed of them, _assured_ that this time they'll be included in the ceremony, _assured_ that they'll be treated like the valued members of the Overwatch team that they are. Gabe had almost believed that, until today, when they'd showed up at the hotel where Overwatch is putting them up for the ceremony and attempted to check in.

Gabe hands the man behind the counter his ID, and it's scanned and handed back to him with two room key cards.

"Where are the rest of them?" Gabe asks, when it becomes clear that the man does not intend to give him any more key cards. "The cards for the rest of the rooms? There are five of us, there should be five rooms."

The man seems surprised. "I can give you more cards if you need them, but you only have the two rooms booked." He waves the data on his screen up where Gabe can see it, and yeah, there are only two rooms under his name, because fucking of course there are.

Gabe takes a deep breath. It's not this guy's fault, and getting angry at him won't help anything. "Would it be possible to get the three additional rooms now?" He can put them on his card, figure out how to move things around in the budget later or just eat the cost if he has to--

"I'm sorry, sir." The man behind the counter makes an apologetic face. "We're booked entirely full--some kind of thing going on at the UN tomorrow."

"Yes, that's... Yes." Gabe sighs. "We'll probably be down later for more key cards, but we'll go check these out now. Thanks." He grabs the cards off the counter and steps further down the lobby to pull out his comm.

"Gabe!” Jack's voice is almost jovial. "You guys made it okay?"

"Morrison," Gabe replies, his voice flat. "We're at the hotel. What the hell."

There's a pause, and then a sigh. "You _know_ how the budget's been. I have to fund an entire goddamn black ops team in secret; corners are going to have to get cut somewhere."

"How many of _your_ agents are sharing rooms?"

"I got a room for you and one for your agents. It's the best I could do."

"Everything we do for you--"

Jack cuts him off. "You should be getting a pile of medals on your goddamn desk, Reyes. This is the best I could do."

Gabe hangs up. He sets his comm to _do not disturb_ and shoves it deep into his pocket.

He goes back to face his agents.

Valdez, Prithi, Shiga, and McCree are waiting with their luggage and their garment bags further down in the lobby. They're all smiling, but Gabe can see some nervousness in their shoulders, their stances. He's pretty sure that Valdez has been through this kind of actual ceremony before, back in her Overwatch days, but for the other three, this will be the first time they've actually gotten this kind of public recognition for the necessary work that they do.

He hates that this is how this is going.

"I've got some bad news," he says, approaching the group.

"What, already?" Shiga laughs, a little too shrill. "Don't tell me, they cancelled the ceremony."

"No, that's still on, as far as I know. No, Overwatch, in its infinite wisdom, has _not_ booked us the five rooms I was promised." He holds up the key cards. "We've got two."

"I call dibs on a bed!" Prithi says.

"I call dibs on Prithi's bed," Valdez adds, and she and Prithi get into a good-natured shoving match.

"Blackwatch's finest," Gabe says, rolling his eyes affectionately. "Come on, guys, let's go see how bad we've got it."

The rooms themselves, when they get there, are not bad. The first one they key into is clean, with a queen bed and a little desk and a nice view of the city from the window. The second is bigger, still just a queen bed but also a sofa and two sinks in the bathroom and the same great view.

"Well," McCree says to Gabe, peering into the second room, "This one is obviously supposed to be yours."

Shiga's already inside, poking the sofa to see if it maybe folds out into a bed too. "I'll take the other one," Gabe says. "You guys let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll be right next door."

Valdez nods, and Gabe takes his things to the smaller room and closes the door behind him. He sinks down on the edge of the bed and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. They're off to a great start; he can't wait to see how else this trip goes completely off the rails.

.

When he knocks on the door of the team's room later--he's taking them all out to dinner, his treat--he sees that they've already made themselves at home. The garment bags with their dress uniforms are hung in the closet, but the rest of the room looks a little like at least one of the suitcases has exploded, clothes and toiletries and things from the mini fridge strewn everywhere.

"I trust you got everything sorted out?" Gabe asks, pointedly ignoring the mess.

Shiga pops his head out of the bathroom to answer. "Yeah! Prithi and Stef called dibs on the bed, so Jesse and I will take turns on the sofa, one tonight, one tomorrow. There's enough blankets that whoever's on the floor shouldn't be in too bad of shape the next morning."

Gabe feels the anger bubbling in his chest and tries to push it down. He shouldn't be surprised that Morrison couldn't even get them a room that accommodated them all comfortably. That would certainly be too much to ask. "Nobody should be sleeping on the floor. I've got a whole bed to myself, there's no reason for anybody to be sleeping on the floor."

"Nice!" Shiga says, grinning as he exits the bathroom. On the bed, Valdez and Prithi exchange a look. "Jesse, you want to sleep with Reyes?"

McCree, who's currently reclining on the sofa, makes a sort of strangled noise that isn't really a yes or a no. "The, uh, the sofa is--"

"I mean, you're taller than I am and I can tell from here already that you don't fit on the sofa if you stretch all the way out." Shiga gives McCree a look that Gabe can tell is fraught with meaning. Gabe knows that Shiga has, on occasion, seemed a little flustered or uncomfortable when it's just been the two of them, out on missions or around the base, so it makes sense that Shiga might not want to be the one to take Gabe up on his offer.

"The floor ain't that bad," McCree says. "I've slept worse places--we all have."

"Jesse," Valdez says, sternly but not unkindly, "Just because we _have_ doesn't mean we _should_."

"It's not an order or anything," Gabe is quick to clarify. "It's only if you want to."

McCree looks at Shiga, looks at Valdez and Prithi, looks at Gabe. He squares his shoulders, and he nods.

.

Dinner is excellent, Korean barbecue from a little hole in the wall that Gérard made them swear to visit when he found out where the medal ceremony was being held. The food is good and the company is great, and Gabe has a little bit of the soju Prithi orders for the table and tries not to stare at McCree.

He doesn't know why he offered to share his bed. Well, no, he offered to share his bed because it was the right thing to do, because none of them would be in this situation if he hadn't put them in for medals in the first place, because he's the commander and the well-being of his people is his responsibility. He doesn't regret any of that. 

What he regrets, or what he suspects he may regret, is that McCree took him up on the offer.

It's not that he dislikes McCree--quite the opposite, in fact, which is kind of the problem. He hadn't thought he had any feelings for McCree at all for the longest time, but he'd looked up from his paperwork at 2100 one night, at McCree sitting on the edge of his desk, telling a story and waving his hands and smiling, and he'd realized, _oh, we're friends_. Gabe doesn't have a lot of friends, and he had been happy to add McCree to that short list. But it hadn't stopped there. Just like the friendship had snuck up on him, one day he'd looked at McCree--they'd been sparring, just like they always did, and McCree had pinned him to the mat and grinned at him--and Gabe had realized, _oh, oh no, I think I like him._

He'd done the only thing he could do at that point, which was compartmentalize those feelings, bury them good and deep and try to forget that they ever existed. There are plenty of reasons why Gabe's crush is a terrible idea; acting on it could jeopardize his friendship and his job and the well-oiled machine that is the Blackwatch organization. No matter how much he likes Jesse McCree, it isn't worth risking any of those things, let alone all of them. He's done so many terrible things; he's not going to let this be one more.

McCree lifts his shot glass full of soju, drawing Gabe's eyes to him and pulling Gabe from his reverie. He'd been so caught up in his own head that he hadn't noticed when his own glass had gotten refilled or when the pitcher had been emptied.

"To Reyes," McCree says, a toast. "For all the hard work it took to get us here."

Gabe laughs. "Please. All I did was stay up Morrison's ass until you guys finally got the recognition you deserve. You're the ones who earned this," he says, but everybody else at the table is raising their glasses too.

"To Reyes," they echo.

"To all of you," he says, and they all drink.

When they get back to the hotel, Gabe sends his agents up to the room and stops by the front desk to acquire more key cards: two more for the bigger room, and one more for his. 

He can do this, he tells himself. It's just a couple nights.

.

McCree, when he moves his things into Gabe's room, doesn't take up much space. His garment bag goes into the closet, his suitcase gets unfolded in a far corner of the room, and a toothbrush appears on the counter by the sink.

"Don't feel like you have to be neat on my account," Gabe says. "I saw the way your hotel room looked on that mission in Uruguay."

"There was a _lot_ of blood," McCree protests. "What was I supposed to do?"

"What about Pakistan, then? No blood there." 

McCree laughs, taking Gabe's teasing just as seriously as it had been intended. 

"Really though, you were supposed to have your own room, with your own bathroom and your own bed, so this one is at least half yours."

"What happened with that, by the way?" McCree asks. He doesn't set anything else out of his suitcase, but when he starts peeling off layers of clothes--getting ready for bed, Gabe can only assume--he drops them in a haphazard pile on the floor next to the suitcase instead of attempting to fold them or keep them tidy. Not that Gabe is paying a whole lot of attention to where the clothes land; McCree is quickly down to just his white undershirt and a pair of gym shorts he pulls from his suitcase. When Gabe doesn't answer, McCree prompts again: "The hotel rooms, I mean--why weren't there enough for us?"

Gabe tears his eyes away from McCree, turns to his own luggage and rummages for something that will pass for pajamas. "Oh, you know."

And McCree probably _does_ know. He's spent time in Gabe's office planning missions they've had to scale back or improvise their way through with shit they can buy at the hardware store. He's listened to Gabe swear about the security of humanity and the world and the lack of support that Blackwatch gets from Overwatch in general (and Strike Commander Jack Fucking Morrison in particular). He ought to be able to make an educated guess.

McCree snorts. "Someday we'll get fully funded, just once, and we'll all die of the surprise." Gabe hears the bed shift behind him as he pulls on the pair of ratty sweats that live at the bottom of his travel bag. When he turns back, McCree is already in the bed, the covers pulled up across his torso.

He smiles at Gabe, and something loosens in Gabe's chest.

"Gonna join me, Reyes? We've got a big day tomorrow, gotta get our beauty sleep," McCree says, patting the bed next to him to beckon Gabe in. 

Gabe crawls in next to McCree. "I'm not sure the world could handle me at full beauty sleep," he says, settling carefully under the covers. He's trying to be self-deprecating, but it feels like he's missing the mark and making it even more awkward. "These dark circles are for everyone's benefit, really."

"Can't argue with that," McCree says with a quiet laugh. "Let's say that's what mine are for too."

"That checks out," Gabe says, more sincerely than he means to, and he laughs to cover his slip. He leans over to turn off the bedside lamp, then says into the darkness, "Good night, McCree."

"G'night, Reyes." The bed shifts as McCree rolls over. Gabe risks a glance--McCree's facing away from him, which is probably for the best. Still, Gabe is hyper-aware of their proximity.

He'll be lucky if he gets any sleep at all tonight.

.

Gabe wakes up the next morning to find McCree wrapped around him like an octopus, snoring. Gabe feels warm, and safe, and _jesus_ he's fucked, isn't he.

He stays still, aware of the fragile, transient state he's in, knowing that as soon as they're both awake this thing, happy accident that it is, will be over. He closes his eyes again and takes a slow, deep breath. McCree's arm is slung across Gabe's chest, their legs are tangled together, and McCree's breath is hot on his neck. There's no way to extricate himself without waking McCree--not that he wants to, but he knows that he should.

He thinks, for a fleeting moment, about what it would be like to have this all the time, and how impossible that is.

He is suddenly, acutely aware of his dick, pressing hard and insistent against McCree's leg, and of McCree's dick nudging similarly up against his hip.

Before he can figure out how to resolve this situation, his alarm goes off. McCree's eyes fly open, and half a second later he swears and scrambles backwards out of the bed and onto the floor.

"I should've taken the sofa and let Shiga have the bed," he says, almost to himself. He looks up at Gabe. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it'll never happen again--"

Gabe scrubs a hand over his face, puts on his _Commander_ expression to hide his own panic. "Jesus, McCree, calm down. You're not in trouble. Relax."

What comes out of McCree's mouth is more of a series of distressed noises than actual words. Gabe's not sure he's seen McCree this upset in years. Surely it's not that Gabe is intimidating. They're _friends_ , or at least Gabe hopes they are.

Does McCree somehow...know?

Gabe opens his mouth to speak--to say what, he has no idea, and there's no way _that_ could go poorly--but before he can say anything, McCree flees to the bathroom. He hears the click of the lock and collapses back into the bed, putting his pillow over his face and groaning into it.

He makes himself scarce.

He goes to the other agents' room and knocks insistently with his fist. Prithi's grousing is loud enough that Gabe hears it even before the door opens.

"The 'do not disturb' sign is on the fucking door, the hotel had better be burning down--" 

The door opens and she sees Gabe.

"--sir. The hotel had better be burning down, _sir_."

"Just wanted to make sure you were all up," Gabe says, hiding a smile.

Prithi looks back into the room. "Stef's in the shower. Fred's..." She waves a hand vaguely. "Fred! You awake?"

They get a groan in response.

"He's alive, at least. Don't worry, Stef has aspirin; we'll all be ready."

After that, he ventures down to the hotel's breakfast buffet, stacking two plates high with fresh fruit and bacon and toast and one of those cream-filled donuts with the chocolate glaze that he knows McCree likes--a peace offering. He eats his there, and then he and McCree's plate and a whole handful of paper napkins make the journey back up to their room.

When he gets back, McCree is freshly showered and most of the way into his dress uniform. McCree really does clean up well, Gabe notes, trying not to look at the stretch of fabric across his shoulders and his thighs. The dress uniforms may be a pain in the ass to wear, but they are quite the thing to look at. 

He leaves McCree's plate on the bedside table and goes to get ready himself. The plate is empty when he's done with his shower, and McCree gives him a grateful look.

Gabe dresses in silence, and christ, this is worse than he expected. Of all the ways he'd thought McCree might respond to waking up in his arms, this kind of total shutdown was not one of them.

He finds himself asking: "Did you think I was going to be mad at you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees McCree shrug. "I might be, in your shoes." McCree pauses, fiddling with something on the front of his uniform coat. "I honestly didn't even know that was a danger--I haven't shared a lot of beds since I left Deadlock."

"Really?" Gabe doesn't manage to keep the surprise from his voice. "Handsome guy like you, sleeping alone?"

McCree chuckles. "Who has the time? Don't know if you've noticed, but I spend most of my time working, with you."

"If you need to take some time for yourself..."

"It's okay, Reyes. Don't worry about it." McCree pauses again, swears quietly. "This goddamn tie has a mind of its own. Is Prithi up? She's good at this, I'll have to ask her--"

"I'll get it," Gabe says. He somehow doesn't realize that this is a mistake until he steps up next to McCree. Their faces are close, and McCree averts his eyes as Gabe works. His hands move delicately, almost of their own accord, at McCree's throat, tying the tie and then patting his handiwork down against McCree's sternum.

"Thanks," McCree says quietly, and he meets Gabe's eyes.

.

After how much trouble it had been to get here, the ceremony is almost anticlimactic. It's pretty much all a blur of protocol and applause, his agents at attention and some UN bigwig at his side--all a blur, except for the moment when Gabe steps between McCree and the crowd to pin the medal onto his chest, when McCree gives him a cheeky wink and Gabe allows himself, for just a moment, to smile.

Afterwards, there's a reception they're expected to attend. Gabe's always been great at these things and hated them. He tells his agents to stick together and not confirm or agree to anything and then loses them in a crowd of diplomats and ass-kissers. 

Gabe makes the rounds, talks to all the right people and says all the right things. Eventually, he gives up on keeping the peace and goes for the table with the champagne flutes; instead of making it there, he winds up cornered by Director Petras and three of his interchangeable aides for nearly half an hour before he feels a hand at his elbow. He turns, and there's McCree, unreasonably handsome in his dress uniform, making an excuse to Petras about an emergency and gently guiding Gabe away.

"Thank you," Gabe mutters quietly, trying not to think about the feeling of McCree's hand on his arm.

McCree grins at him. "There _is_ an emergency. Y'know how you told us not to do anything stupid?"

Gabe pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath and lets it out. "I didn't tell you that. I didn't think I _had_ to tell you that."

"I didn't think you had to tell us that either. But, you know those tiny sandwiches they're carrying around on all the trays?"

"What, the canapes?" Gabe actually snags one from a waiter they pass by, hungry and worn out from the sparring session with Petras. He pops the tiny sandwich into his mouth and almost immediately regrets it. "Don't tell me you guys poisoned the canapes."

The woman they're passing in the elaborate headscarf must overhear him, because she turns to look, aghast, and McCree assures her that the canapes have not been poisoned, that they are delicious and she shouldn't worry about anything. "You can trust me," he says, gesturing at his chest, "I just got a medal."

She does not look convinced, but they keep walking regardless.

"Well, Fred bet Stef twenty bucks that he could eat more _canapes_ than her. He ate three and stopped. When she finally slowed down long enough to check what his number was, she'd eaten twenty-five."

Gabe winces. "Blackwatch's finest, jesus christ."

"We got medals," McCree agrees. "But yeah, Stef's not feeling particularly well. She and Prithi are in the ladies room, but it's probably time for us to make a tactical retreat."

They make a tactical retreat.

.

The only thing better than Jesse McCree in his Overwatch dress uniform, Gabe realizes that evening, is Jesse McCree taking off his Overwatch dress uniform. He tries not to watch, really he does, as McCree loosens his tie, shucks the jacket onto the bed, medals and all, and pulls the shirt open at the collar, but he's fighting a losing battle. By the time McCree undoes his cufflinks and starts rolling his sleeves up over his forearms, Gabe's given up completely on any pretense of not watching, but is at least going through similar motions--he _really_ hates his dress uniform and is going to take off as much of it as he can get away with.

When Valdez is feeling better, the group orders room service and then turns in for the night. The flight out tomorrow is early, and even though missing their flight would just be one more problem on top of everything else they've encountered across all these goddamn attempts to get here, Gabe doesn't want anybody to be able to point fingers at them on this one.

That leaves Gabe and McCree alone in their room. Gabe expects McCree to raise a fuss, to try to leave or at least try to say something--just one more piece of this trip that goes poorly--but no, McCree sheds what's left of his dress uniform and crawls into bed with no complaint.

"You're good to stay here?" Gabe asks, unable to leave well enough alone.

"Yeah." McCree hides a yawn with the back of his hand. "You good for me to stay?"

Gabe nods. "Yeah. I--yeah."

The bed still feels too small, and he can feel the heat radiating off of McCree as they try very carefully to stay out of each other's space. Gabe's not sure if he wants to wake up tomorrow the way they did this morning or not; either way, there's only one more night to make it through.

.

Gabe wakes up before his alarm again, the room dark behind his eyelids. Instead of McCree wrapped around him, somehow he's slotted up neatly against McCree? He'd definitely been fast asleep; he has no idea how this happened.

He stays still and quiet for a long, indulgent moment, letting himself have this--and that's when he feels the hand moving against his scalp. It's a small movement, light, almost tender. Gabe keeps his eyes closed and his breathing deliberately slow, waiting.

"Almost said 'what's the worst that could happen' last night," McCree says under his breath, almost too quietly for even Gabe to hear. "Must've jinxed it."

Gabe should extract himself--if McCree's not happy, he should--

Before he can do anything, McCree continues, "Maybe when you wake up, I could convince you to stay here, close your eyes and pretend I was somebody else. Maybe then you'd stay."

Gabe ought to stay quiet. The universe has given him this, and if he just keeps his mouth _shut_ \--

"What if I don't want to pretend?" he asks.

McCree goes still. He doesn't try to scramble backwards--but then again, Gabe's got a pretty good grip on him, it's unlikely he'd go far. "You don't want to pretend, you let me go and I'll...go. I'll wait out the rest of the night on the floor, or go rest my eyes in one of those big chairs in the lobby, those looked pretty comfy."

He's been given an out, plausible deniability. He ought to take it. But this whole ordeal has been a lot of _ought to_ s, and Gabe is...Gabe is tired.

"That's not--" Gabe tries again. "What if I don't _want_ to pretend?"

McCree huffs a laugh. "Really."

In the darkness, Gabe nods.

McCree rolls over to face him fully, close enough now that their noses are almost touching. "Wait, really? Don't fuck with me, Reyes, because if this is just you trying to screw with me, then I am about to do something that'll really embarrass the both of us."

Gabe's stomach flips, but he manages to keep his voice steady and dry as he says, "McCree. In all the time we've known each other, have you ever known me to screw with people like that?"

McCree kisses him.

Gabe kisses back, desperately. He can't believe this is happening, but while it is, he's going to take advantage of every second of it. McCree seems to be of the same opinion, both his hands on Gabe's face, nipping with his teeth at Gabe's lower lip. A frankly embarrassing noise escapes Gabe, and McCree does it again.

"You like that?" McCree asks, his voice low, needy, almost a whisper. They _are_ in a hotel room, Gabe remembers almost belatedly, and the other Blackwatch agents are right on the other side of the wall, and so he nods in response, his forehead against McCree's.

"I need to touch more of you," McCree says, so Gabe lets go of him long enough to peel out of his undershirt and wait for McCree to do the same.

"Is this okay? Is this...enough?"

McCree nods. "Anything you want to give me, I'll take."

That's how he ends up underneath McCree on the bed, pinned down with both wrists above his head. It ought to feel bold, presumptuous, for McCree to assume that this is something that Gabe wants, but McCree _knows_ him, so instead it feels natural, like they've been doing this forever.

(He knows they have to be up in a few hours for their flight, but god, he _wants_ to keep doing this forever.)

McCree tugs at Gabe's lip again, licking into Gabe's mouth as they kiss, and jesus, Gabe is so hard right now. His back arches and he presses up against McCree, and he can feel how hard McCree is too.

"If you let me have one of my hands back," Gabe whispers between kisses, "I can--"

"Yes, yes," McCree says against his lips. He lets go of Gabe's right wrist, and Gabe rotates it once, twice, before reaching down between them and taking them both in hand. McCree shudders above him but doesn't stop kissing him as Gabe strokes, hard lines of heat moving against each other in Gabe's hand.

Gabe probably ought to feel self-conscious about how quickly he comes, spilling across his torso as McCree kisses at his neck and shoulder, but really, it's all he can do to stay quiet. Besides, McCree comes not too long after that, whispering _I'm gonna, fuck, Reyes, I'm gonna_ and biting down on Gabe's shoulder hard enough that Gabe's pretty sure he's left a mark.

McCree rolls off of Gabe and down onto the bed. Almost immediately, he reaches out a hand to lace his fingers between Gabe's, and a tension Gabe hadn't even known he'd been feeling lets itself out of his chest.

.

The alarm goes off too soon. Gabe stretches for it on the bedside table, only able to brush it with the tips of his fingers from where he's curled up underneath McCree. 

"We need to get up," Gabe says into McCree's shoulder, nosing gently at his ear.

McCree groans. "Five more minutes, please."

"At least let me turn off the alarm," Gabe says, and McCree relents a little, letting Gabe maneuver enough to grab his comm and shut off the awful beeping.

They make it out of bed eventually and tumble into the shower together, touching and kissing and not getting particularly clean at first. McCree runs his fingers over the bite mark he'd left on Gabe's shoulder, a little wondering, a little proud. Gabe ends up coming again, his fingers tangled in McCree's damp hair where McCree kneels in front of him, the water washing over them both. McCree grins as he gets to his feet, and Gabe kisses him deeply, tasting himself on McCree's tongue.

Afterwards, when they're packing up their things, McCree looks over at him. "Just so we're clear," he starts, and Gabe's stomach drops, because there are so many ways that sentence could end and so many of them aren't what Gabe wants to hear, "This _isn't_ one of those 'what happens at the UN medal ceremony stays at the UN medal ceremony' things, right?"

Gabe laughs. "Ah yes, that well-known saying." He pauses. "Are you asking if I want to keep doing this when we get back to base?"

McCree nods. "Yeah. 'Cause I do. I want to. If you want to. If you want to go back to how we were, we can do that, but--shit, Reyes, I really don't want to have to stop kissing you."

"Okay, so let's keep kissing and see what happens." He walks over to to McCree and kisses him again. Then, it occurs to him: "Wait, so when we got here, when Shiga asked you if you wanted to sleep with me--"

"Pretty sure you're the only one who didn't know about my crush on you." McCree makes a face. "Not sure either one of us is gonna live this down."

Gabe kisses him again, and says quietly, "Seems to me like it's worth it."


End file.
